


Dead on the Bayou

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 1x08 "Bugs" A stand-alone Hunt. The Winchester boys are on the trail of an elusive killer in Louisiana on a tip from Dad but all is not what it seems. The usual hurt/limp/awesome!Sam/Dean with a dash of angst for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I've had this idea floating around my head for a while. :P Just hadn't settled on what nasty I wanted to toss in to the mix. Finally made up my mind so hear you go! :D
> 
> And yes, I was totally listening to CCR and this song when I was trying to figure out where to locate this story. :D Eerily fitting.
> 
> Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P

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_Now, when I was just a little boy,_  
Standin' to my Daddy's knee,  
My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you  
Do what he done to me."  
'Cause he'll get you,  
'Cause he'll get you now, now.

And I can remember the fourth of July,  
Runnin' through the backwood, bare.  
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin',  
Chasin' down a hoodoo there.  
Chasin' down a hoodoo there.

Born On The Bayou  
~Creedence Clearwater Revival

_**CHAPTER 1** _

The Impala growled along the interstate, carrying her boys away from Oklahoma and a hunt that still had their skin crawling.

"Dude, stop itching." Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother scratching his arm.

"It itches." Sam glared over at him and shifted on the seat to take the pressure of the right side of his butt. "You didn't get stung in the ass."

Dean snorted and swallowed the laughter, figuring he'd harassed Sam enough over the last two hours but… "Maybe we can get ya a cream for that."

"Bite me, Dean." Sam tossed back.

"Eww." Dean smirked and then looked over in surprise as his phone went off. Sam grabbed it and flipped it open. "Who is it?"

Sam sighed and passed it over. "More coordinates from Dad." He said and shook his head.

"We'll find him, Sammy." Dean told him. "In the meantime…" He handed the phone back. "Find out where we're going."

Sam was already digging the map out of the glove box. He spread it in his lap, tilting it toward the afternoon sun and checked the coordinates again. "Just wish he'd actually, you know, talk to us." He said softly.

Dean wisely said nothing, not wanting to start him off on Dad. He hoped Sam's more charitable mood would last and then he smirked. It would last until about five minutes after they found Dad.

"Well, we're going the right way." Sam folded the map. "The coordinates are for a place called Bayou Goula in Lousiana."

"Bayou huh?" Dean asked, raising his brows and Sam chuckled.

"Bayou Goula. Looks like it's part of White Castle Parish." He tucked the map back into the glove box.

"Dude. White Castle?" Dean looked over with a grin. "A burger town. I can handle that."

Sam rolled his eyes, envisioning every meal during the Hunt coming in little blue and white boxes. "Wonder what caught his attention?"

"How long's the drive?" Dean was hungry now, the thought of a burger heaven making his mouth water.

"About seven hours." Sam handed Dean's phone back to him and resettled himself in the seat, closing his eyes.

Dean watched him and smirked. If he had to suffer being hungry then Sam wasn't gonna have a nice nap. He reached over and flipped the radio on, cranking the volume as Creedence Clearwater Revival started playing. Sam groaned and thumped his head into the window, making Dean chuckle.

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Dean drove through White Castle, eyes riveted on the streets waiting for the parade of White Castle restaurants that was sure to appear but to his dismay, he didn't see a single one. Sam was smirking so loud in the passenger seat he could practically hear it and growled as he turned in to a Biggersons, its sign glowing happily in the warm evening air.

"Food, Sammy and you can geek your way through some research while we're at it." Dean smiled and pointed at the WiFi logo on the restaurant's window as they got out. Sam grabbed his laptop from the back seat and followed Dean inside.

"Bayou Goula's another half hour on you know." Sam told him as they went inside.

Dean patted his stomach. "Dude my stomach is eating through my back. Food first. Us humans need to eat."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Who says you're human?"

"Keep it up I'm gonna plant your gigantor ass in the salad bar." Dean snarled and slid in to the first empty booth at the window while Sam chuckled and sat across from him. He pulled out the laptop and fired it up.

A half hour later Sam dug his eyes off the screen when a French fry landed on his keyboard. "Dude, are you ten?"

Dean smirked. "Food, Sam. You're supposed to eat it." Dean pointed to Sam's untouched sandwich and then pushed the laptop closed, yanking it across the table while Sam sputtered. "You eat, you get the toy back."

Sam scowled at him but pulled his plate over and took a bite. "There, I ate. Gimme."

"Forget it." Dean pulled the computer off the table with a smirk. "Eat and talk. What do you got so far?"

"Such a jerk." Sam groaned but took another bite, glaring at Dean when he launched another fry at him. "First off, I can tell you that there are no White Castle's at all in White Castle." Sam delivered that news with a happy grin.

"Dude, so not cool." Dean rolled his eyes. "How can you name a whole town after 'em and not have any? What the hell?"

Sam shook his head with a smile. "Oh the humanity." He batted away the next fry aimed for his face with a laugh. "Okay so, we've got three missing persons and four bodies all from Bayou Goula. Different manner of death on the four bodies; two drownings, one guy was hanged and the woman was trampled."

"So why's Dad want us here?" Dean asked, finishing off his fries. "I mean ok people dead and missing I get but nothing's screaming supernatural to me."

"It's in the witness statement." Sam finished half his sandwich and pushed the plate away. "There's one witness who said her husband was complaining about a black horse in chains stalking him."

Dean looked up and raised a brow. "Ok, now I'm paying attention. That's kinda specific and weird."

"Yeah. The wife thought he was on something, seeing things or just making it up." Sam shrugged. "She wasn't home when he went missing but the daughter was."

"So, first stop tomorrow." Dean poked at Sam's plate with half the sandwich still on it and sighed. The kid wasn't sleeping and was barely eating except when Dean bullied him into it. He shoved the plate back over at Sam. "Eat the rest and we'll go find a motel."

"I'm good." Sam shook his head and pushed it back.

"Sammy." Dean said but his brother rolled his eyes.

"It's Sam." He reminded his big brother again and scooted out of the booth.

Dean sighed in irritation as Sam headed for the bathroom and sat back with a thump. Though he hated the whole sharing and caring and thing, when it came to Sam he made an exception. He wished his little brother would tell him what was really eating him up. Jess' loss of course was weighing on him. That much was obvious from the almost nightly nightmares he woke gasping from; sometimes screaming but there was something else. He could tell just by looking at him. He'd known Sam all his life and he knew when he was hiding something. He dropped a twenty on the table and grabbed the laptop, sliding it back into Sam's bag and stood. Sooner or later he'd get it out of him; Dean assured himself and headed out to start up the car.

Sam stared at himself in the bathroom mirror; at his pale face and darkened eyes and knew why Dean was mothering him. Part of him wanted to tell his brother what was killing him but another part couldn't stand to see Dean's face after he did; the look he was sure he would see there that would scream 'freak' at him…or worse. He was responsible for Jess' death. He knew that. He couldn't forgive himself so how would Dean ever be able to? He splashed water on his face and rubbed it off, trying not to look as dejected as he felt. He took a deep breath and went back out. He stopped at their table where the waitress was cleaning it and his brother was gone, no doubt to the car and already had the radio blasting.

He sighed and headed for the door. Sam stepped outside and then stood in shock when he saw the Impala's tail lights heading away down the road. "What the hell? Dean?" As he watched the Impala suddenly swerved and then screeched to a stop in the middle of the road. "Something's wrong." Sam broke into a run, sprinting down the parking lot and out into the road. There was a flash from inside the car and he heard the sound of a gunshot, spurring him on even faster.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and skidded to a stop into the back of the car, lurching around to the driver's side. "Dean?"

"I'm ok, Sammy." Dean's voice came out the shattered driver's side window.

Sam stepped in the glass and bent to look in. Dean was leaning over the wheel, panting and another man leaned against the passenger door; unconscious or dead, Sam couldn't tell. "Dean, what the hell happened? Are you ok?" Sam pulled the door open and shoved his brother back against the seat, checking him for a gunshot wound.

Dean batted his hands away. "I'm fine, dude." He looked over at the other man with a deadly glare. "Stupid idiot tried to carjack me."

"Are you hit? Did he shoot you?" Sam was beside himself and refused to believe Dean.

"Son of a bitch shot out my damn window, Sam. Get off!" Dean pushed his hands away and got out. "Didn't get me." He strode around to the other side of the Impala, opened the door and dragged the object of his rage out onto the pavement, letting his head thump into the ground. He'd hide it from Sam but it had been several of the most terrifying moments of his life when the asshole had climbed in the car, gun leading and Dean hadn't argued. He'd pulled away when told to as the only image in his mind was Sam coming out and trying to stop it; ending up dead in the parking lot because Dean was too slow to stop it. Once they'd gotten far enough away for Sam to be safe, he'd grabbed the gun, pulling the idiots arm across him and slammed his face into the steering wheel several times. He surveyed the blood streaming from the man's nose with satisfaction.

"What do you wanna do with him?" Sam asked, coming around to look for himself and resisted the urge to use his long legs and break a few of the guy's ribs for threatening his brother.

"Leave him. If he's lucky, he'll wake up before someone runs him over." Dean dropped a boot to his back with a muttered 'oops' on his way around to the drivers' side. "Let's go before someone calls the cops."

Sam stepped over the aborted carjacker and closed the door. He looked over at Dean and suppressed a shudder at how close he had come to losing him to something so normal.

"Stop starin' at me, Sammy." Dean tossed him a grin as he sped down the quiet street. "I'm fine."

Sam nodded and took a deep breath to settle himself. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked over again. "Next time wait for me, huh?"

Dean considered telling him he could handle himself, teasing him or maybe just calling him names but decided to say nothing. The remains of fear were still clear on Sam's face and he just couldn't poke at him for it. "I want a shower." Dean said instead and reached over, turning the radio on for something to listen to other than the sound of his own pounding heart.

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"Could be a Kelpie." Dean said as he emerged from the bathroom, toweling off his hair and sat on his bed. The Lone Star Motel wasn't much over a glorified roach motel and the fact that some enterprising genius had decided to paint a giant, puke yellow star on the ceiling of the room had made him groan. It was lopsided and he had a ridiculous urge to shoot holes in it. Sam sat at the table, absently picking at the black paint peeling from the top of it while staring at his laptop.

"I don't know. The chains don't fit for a Kelpie." Sam shut the laptop and leaned back. "Plus, Kelpie's always drown their victims and they weren't all drowned."

"Could be more than one creature." Dean tossed the towel in the bathroom's direction and lay back on the ugly yellow blanket that matched the star on the ceiling. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Maybe." Sam stood and stretched. "Doesn't feel right though." He looked up as rain suddenly began to pelt the building and wind gusted against the cheap door, rattling it in its frame. He grabbed one of the chairs and took it over, wedging it under the doorknob and smiled when it stilled. "Next time I'm picking the motel." He said with a chuckle. Neither man saw the black cat peering in at them between the curtains of their room before it slinked away into the rain.

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Daisy Ruben walked her bike up the forest path; her head down against the rain and cursing her idiot boyfriend. He'd be lucky if she even spoke to him come Monday. She toyed with the idea of siccing her big brother on him but shook her head. Joe would kill him if he found out Greg tried to take her parking.

"Boys are idiots!" She shouted into the rain and huffed as she dragged the bike up the hill. She was graduating next year and no way was she going to risk her future just to bump in the backseat with Greg Jenner, no matter how hot he was. "Damn he is hot." She muttered and then shook her head at herself.

A soft mewling sound cut through the rain and Daisy peered up under her sodden bangs. A pitiful little black cat hunched on the side of the path beneath an overhanging leaf and mewed at her again. "Aww you poor little thing!" Daisy leaned her bike against a tree and bent to pick it up. It danced away from her hands a few feet up the path and cried at her again. "Come on, little guy. It's pouring!" She went after the poor thing, cooing soft words to it and followed its halting course further up and into the trees. Her voice soon silenced while the rain poured in the darkened forest and gave way to a piercing scream ringing through night.

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_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2** _

The next morning found Sam and Dean standing outside the door of Jane Evans, the woman whose husband had gone missing two days earlier. Dean scowled in his suit. He still thought it was silly playing dress-up but couldn't deny that it lent credibility when they pretended at being FBI. Sam knocked on the door again and stepped back when it opened to reveal a fairly attractive woman in her forties. Blonde hair swept back from a high forehead and blue eyes stared up at them.

"What do you want?" She asked, to the point and crossed her arms. "If you're more reporters I have nothing to say to you."

"No, ma'am." Sam gave her his best smile and Dean let him work his puppy dog eyes to soothe her. "We're from the FBI. We have some questions about your husband's disappearance if you wouldn't mind. We promise not to take too much of your time."

Her face softened slightly at Sam's smile and she sighed. "Oh, well I guess that's alright. Come on in." She moved aside to let them walk past. "Just give me a minute? Let me get Sarah up in her room. She doesn't need to hear this."

"Of course." Sam smiled and watched as she picked up the little girl who had been behind the door and headed up the stairs. They went into the living room and Dean glanced around with a low whistle. There were cows everywhere. The sofa and chair were covered in little cows, cow figurines sat on the table, there were even several cow sun catchers hanging in the window.

"Dude, I bet you her kitchen is covered in cows too." Dean smirked and Sam shook his head.

"Ducks." Sam said and shrugged.

"No way, man. Cows." Dean punched his arm. "Bet you twenty."

Sam snorted and gave a quick nod as Mrs. Evans came back down the stairs. "Make yourselves comfortable. Please." She gestured to the sofa. Dean dropped onto it but Sam gave her another smile.

"I'm sorry. Would you mind if I got a glass of water?" Sam gave a cough that had Dean smirking. "My throat's a little dry from the weather."

"Oh by all means. Please, help yourself." She waved him toward another door and sat in the chair, looking to Dean. "I've told the cops all I know which wasn't much."

"I'm sure." Dean pulled out a notebook. "We just like to cover all the bases. Now, I understand you think he may have just run off?"

Her face tightened but she gave a nod. "My husband is…well he's a jerk." She sniffed and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I'll be blunt. He screwed around and I knew it but with Sarah…well I wasn't willing to ruin her life just to get back at the asshole."

Dean nodded. "So, um…you don't think anything could have happened to him?" He glanced up the stairs. "There was mention in the report of something your daughter may have seen."

"Oh well, she's just a kid. I mean really." She laughed. "A black horse in chains? You can't put any stock in that."

"Every detail could be important." Sam said as he came back in the room carrying three glasses on a tray and smiling. He went and sat beside Dean, setting the tray on the table and looked at his brother with a smirk. The tray and the glasses were decorated with ducks. Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, wondering if he was ever going to live it down. "Would you mind if I spoke to her?" Sam asked Mrs. Evans.

She thought about it for a moment but another look in Sam's eyes had her nodding. "I suppose that would be alright. Just don't upset her."

"Of course not." Sam stood and handed a duck covered glass to Dean.

"It's the second door on your right at the top of the stairs." She told him as he left.

Sam jogged up the stairs and smiled at the door with little pink hearts on it. He knocked softly and opened the door at the quiet 'come in'. "Hi there." Sam went and sat beside the little blonde girl on the bed. "My name's Sam. Is it ok if I ask you some questions about your Dad?"

She smiled shyly up at him. "I'm Sarah." She couldn't be more than ten and her wide blue eyes looked innocently up at him. "You a cop?"

"Not exactly." Sam smiled down at her. "Can you tell me what you saw the night your Dad went missing?"

Sarah looked down at the bear in her hands and sniffed. "Mom doesn't believe me. Neither did the police."

"I promise I'll believe whatever you tell me." Sam said seriously. He knelt in front of her and crossed a finger over his heart in the timeless child's gesture. Sarah giggled at him.

"Well, Daddy put me to bed and we heard a horse." She looked over to her window and back at him. "He told me to stay in bed and he went out but…but I didn't stay in bed." She bit her bottom lip.

"It's ok, sweet-pea. I won't tell anyone." Sam said softly and smiled, pushing long hair off her face where it had fallen.

"I looked out my window and I saw Daddy in the back yard. There was a horse." Sarah said softly and looked at him from under her lashes. "It was a big black horse, like in Daddy's stories only it had chains hanging off it." She squeezed her bear. "It had red eyes. I saw 'em I swear."

"I believe you, Sarah." Sam sat beside her again and put an arm over her shoulders, comforting. "Did you see anything else?"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head. "Just Daddy followed after it. He didn't even look back at me." She sniffled and leaned her head into Sam's shoulder. "It just led him into the forest and he was gone."

Sam hugged her to him for a moment and then tickled under her arm until she giggled. "Thank you, Sarah."

"Are you gonna find my Daddy?" Sarah asked him as he rose to leave.

Sam stopped and looked back. He wanted to lie to the trusting, bright blue eyes she gave him. He smiled. "We're going to try, sweet-pea." She nodded and Sam left her there, making his way back downstairs with a heavier heart. Sarah's mother met him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Is she alright?" She asked Sam and he nodded.

"Misses her father." Sam shook her hand. "Thank you."

She started up the stairs and turned back. "If you find the bastard bouncing under some floozie, do us all a favor and leave him there."

Sam watched her disappear up the stairs and rolled his eyes when Dean snorted behind him. "Dude sounds like a real winner."

"Speaking of winners." Sam turned and held out a hand. "Pay up."

Dean stared at him and clenched his jaw. "You got lucky, hot shot." He dug a twenty out of his back pocket and slapped it into Sam's hand.

Sam chuckled. "Suck it. I was right." He made a show of folding the bill up and tucking it in his pocket with a huge grin. He opened the front door and waved Dean through, taking the hit to the back of his head with another laugh.

"Shut up." Dean groused as they headed for the car. "Just for that, we come back here tonight and you don't get a flashlight."

"You really think the horse, whatever it is, is still around?" Sam asked as he slid in beside his brother.

Dean shrugged. "Probably not but we might be able to find something." He looked over with a smirk. "The mother said they were going to stay at her parent's place tonight so, no witnesses to us tramping around the back lawn into the woods."

"Sarah said she saw the horse. Big, black, covered in chains with red eyes." Sam told him and knew he'd be doing more research when they got back to the motel. "She said her father just followed it into the woods and never even looked back."

"Huh." Dean turned on the radio. "So, some sort of mind control then cause what Dad's gonna leave his ten year old alone in the house?"

"Ours." Sam said simply and then threw his hands up to show Dean he wasn't trying to start an argument. "Just saying."

"Yeah well…don't." Dean smiled tightly at him.

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Night had fallen an hour past and thick cloud cover blocked the moon from sight as the Winchester brothers rounded the Evans' house. Dean strode carefully, flashlight playing along the ground while he scratched at his eyes with the other hand.

"Knock it off, Dean." Sam bumped his arm. "Leave it."

"This stuff smells like ass." Dean grumbled but dropped his hand. "Tell me again why I've got St. John's…warts on my friggin eyelids?"

"St. John's Wort." Sam corrected with a smirk and resisted the urge to rub at his own eyes. "It'll prevent the Pookha from using a glamor on us."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, how are we even supposed to take something seriously with that name? A Pookha." He laughed. "Are you sure that's what it is?"

Sam nodded. "Closest fit I can find with what little we know." He stopped and slapped at Dean's arm, pointing to the ground. "Hoofprints."

"Leading that-a-way." Dean nodded and started towards the forest behind the house. On the left it rose up into low hills while on the right it fell lower and Sam had said it was nothing but Bayou in those trees for miles. "Please let the trail go up." He said softly, not wanting to spend the night splashing through water in the dark.

"The Lore's divided on Pookhas." Sam said and ignored the amused snort from his brother. "Some of them are actually supposed to be beneficent."

"Well not this one." Dean retorted and had to slow his stride to follow the path in the underbrush.

"Yeah, some of them can be really nasty. They like to pick on unwary travelers and they're expert shape shifters."

"Awesome." Dean growled. "So we don't even know what to shoot at."

"Well, it'll be black whatever shape it's in and probably have red eyes." Sam shrugged and shone his light nervously through the darkened forest as he followed Dean. "They're supposed to have the power of human speech too."

Dean stopped at a narrow path and his shoulders drooped. "Dammit."

"What?" Sam came up beside him quickly and shone his light to the ground. The hoof prints clearly led off to the right and down towards the Bayou. He sighed. "Should have brought hip waders."

"This sucks." Dean led the way down the narrow path and took out his gun, seeing Sam do the same. They were both loaded with iron rounds and had machetes at their hips. They'd have to shoot it to slow it down and take its head to kill it. At least with Faerie creatures you knew iron would always work for something.

The wind picked up as they walked, alert to the sounds of the forest around them; crickets chirping and a few enterprising owls somewhere off in the distance. The path they followed sloped sharply down and the ground beneath their feet became spongy and soft, covered in pine needles and leaves. Pines gave way to Cypress trees rising above them with their thick boles, narrow trunks and wide hanging limbs draped in Spanish moss. The ever rising wind swung the moss to and fro above them as rain began to fall; not a gentle rain but hard, falling in sheets to batter against them.

"I don't like this." Sam said over the hiss of the rain and saw Dean nod in agreement. "Must be another storm like last night." It had rolled in over their motel and then quickly blown itself out.

"That's it." Dean stopped at the edge of an expanse of water twisting beneath the Cypress trees. "Trail ends here." He looked out into the Bayou and sighed.

"Kids' father has to be out here somewhere." Sam said and with a groan and went ahead of Dean, stepping into the brackish water up to his calves. "At least it's not cold." He bent his head against the wind driven rain and heard Dean curse behind him.

Dean followed Sam out into the shallow water reluctantly. If he thought Sam would agree he'd bustle them both back to the car until the weather cleared but he knew the daughter had worked her way into Sam's soft heart. He snorted. Sam wouldn't quit until they'd found something now. "Eww." He groaned, stepping in something soft under the water that sent up a strong smell of ammonia quickly torn away by the wind. "I don't even wanna know what that was." The wind changed direction suddenly, blowing directly into their faces as hail the size of golf balls started to pelt down through the trees, splashing loudly in the water. The hairs on Dean's neck stood up giving him a bad feeling and he lurched ahead to grab Sam's arm.

"Sam, I don't like this." Dean shouted. "We gotta go back."

Sam ducked against the hail pelting his head and nodded. He didn't want to but Dean was right. They couldn't hope to find anything in this weather. "Okay, let's…" He trailed off as the wind suddenly began to roar. It sounded like a freight train bearing down on them. He watched Dean's eyes widen in recognition with his own as the freak rain, wind and hail suddenly put themselves together in their heads. "Oh shit." Sam breathed.

Dean grabbed tight hold of his arm and started dragging him back the way they'd come as the air became heavy, pressing down on them, the hail leaving stinging welts on their heads and necks. The roaring became louder, the wind pushing back on them now it had switched directions again. Dean looked up briefly and froze. "Son of a bitch." Through a gap in the Cypress branches, a funnel was descending from the heavy clouds above. Wind driven debris began to slam into them.

Sam grunted as a stout limb tangled in his legs, dropping him to his knees and ripping his arm from his brother's grasp. 'I forgot', he thought to himself in that moment. 'I forgot it was tornado season down here'. He had no time for more thoughts as the wind seemed to grab hold of him and fling him back into the driving rain.

"SAM!" Dean shouted above the noise but even he could barely hear his own voice. He tried to thrash through the water after his brother, following the direction he had been thrown and grunted in surprise when something large and heavy collided with his back. He was knocked into the water, sliding beneath its surface to scrape along the bottom and came up sputtering for air. His breaths were ripped from him by the fierce, howling wind as a huge, dark shape with red eyes suddenly bore down on his chest, pushing him back beneath the surface.

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_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3** _

Dean sank to the bottom under the weight of the Pookha. He could see its red eyes above the surface of the water. He raised his right hand, gun still held firmly and the Pookha vanished. Its weight left his chest and his head bobbed to the surface, sucking in a grateful breath as a new weight descended on him. Dean gasped in another lungful of air as the bole of a Cypress rolled onto him, pushing his legs down into the mud. The wind gave a final, deafening roar and began to die away. He wrapped his hand around the tree above him, using it to lever his head above the water and gasped.

"Holy crap." Dean panted and looked around, blinking water from his eyes but could see no sign of the Pookha. He stared at the tree on top of him and a chill traveled down his spine; if the Pookha hadn't knocked him back, the tree would have clipped him in the chest and crushed him. Branches and leaves dropped into the water around him, released by the storm as it dissipated. His flashlight was gone, ripped from his hand. He tightened his grip on his gun and reached his hand up over the trunk of the tree, trying to pull himself out.

"Aw come on!" Dean shouted angrily. It had pressed his legs down into the muddy bottom. He pushed in earnest, pulling on his legs and felt the suction start to give. His left leg slid free and he braced his foot against the bark. The extra leverage let him slide his right leg out and he pulled himself up over the tree. His legs burned with returning blood flow and he let himself lay atop the tree for a moment. "Ok, Sammy. Where the hell are you?" He looked out into the darkened swamp and wondered how he was going to find him.

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Sam moaned and worked to blink his eyes open against the pounding in his head and the swaying that was making his stomach lurch. When he finally he did, he jerked in surprise. He was dangling twenty feet up in a massive Cypress, Spanish moss tickling his face.

"Not…good." Sam groaned and tried to see what was holding him up. He twisted, pulling on a nearby branch and saw his right leg tangled in branches and moss; the only thing holding him up. "Awesome." Below him was water so at least his fall wouldn't be a hard landing. A myriad of pains were making themselves known across his back, legs and arms. He'd obviously taken a few hits on his way into the tree. The wind had died, the hail gone and even the rain had died off to a gentle drizzle that fell on his face and helped cut the muggy heat that was beginning to sink over the Cypress swamp.

"Dean!" Sam called and coughed, clearing water from his throat. "Dean!" There was no answer and he sighed, resigning himself to a long drop. He forced tired muscles to work, pulling himself up his own leg until he could get his hands on the branches trapping him. He worked his hands into the knot, pulling and tugging and with a crack they broke. Sam dropped with a short cry into the water below. The impact of the twenty foot fall knocked the breath from him as he sank. Sam fought every instinct screaming at him to breathe as his back touched the bottom. The water wasn't deep but disoriented as he was, it took him precious moments to remember which way was up. His hand found one of the roots of the tree he'd been trapped in and used it to pull himself up, gasping for breath as his head broke the surface. The water was neck deep where he'd fallen.

Sam pulled himself up the root toward the tree to get himself out of the water and froze. Perched along the trunk of the tree above him was a large black cat, peering down at him with red eyes.

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Dean lurched through the water from tree to tree, using the gnarled and twisted roots to pull himself along. "Sam!" He called periodically and refused to give way to panic each time his call went unanswered. The whuffle of a horse stopped Dean in his tracks and he looked up to see a large, sleek black horse wading in the shallows a few yards away. It turned its head to look at him and Dean heard the soft jangle of the chains draped through its mane.

"Uh…how about you not eat me til I find my brother?" Dean said softly and raised his gun. He squeezed off a round as the Pookha danced behind a tree, the bullet sending chunks of bark into the air. It whinnied and appeared again further away. "Stand still." Dean growled and fired again, the shot missing its target once more as the creature ducked behind another tree. Dean lunged after it. He wanted to kill the thing before it could find his brother, if it hadn't already.

"Come on, you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as he splashed after the Pookha. It was teasing him, giving him just enough time to brace and fire before moving nimbly out of the way and reappearing further on.

"DEAN!" Sam's voice broke through the night air and Dean froze, watching the horse. It gave him another look and then darted away with a last toss of its head.

"Sammy?" Dean called and ran through the deepening water. He climbed up the roots of a massive Cyprus, rounding the trunk and gasped. Sam was in the water at the base of a tree and inching toward him from above was a huge black cat. He realized with a jolt that it had to be a second Pookha. "You gotta be kidding me. SAM!" He shouted and fired off several shots at the creature.

He thought he'd hit it at least once and Dean's eyes widened in surprise as it transformed in mid leap at Sam from a cat to an enormous black bear. It hit Sam with a thud, pushing them both into the water and beneath its surface.

"Sam!" Dean leaped off the base of the tree as the Pookha erupted from the water and into the nearest tree, vanishing into the night with a loud growl. Dean ignored it and dove under the surface, arms reaching ahead of him to where he thought Sam had gone under. His hands found one of Sam's arms thrashing through the water and he pulled, grunting when Sam didn't come with him. It was too dark to see anything under the water so Dean used Sam's body to guide his hands down along his torso and legs until he found what felt like submerged roots wedged over his hips. Sam's hands clamped into his jacket and Dean could feel them shaking, knew Sam had to be desperate for air. He planted his feet in the muddy bottom, wrapped his arms around the roots and strained to pull them up. There was a release of bubbles as Sam came loose. Dean grabbed him and pulled him up.

"Sam! You ok?" Dean asked as his brother's head broke the surface and both men panted for air.

Sam let himself be supported with Dean's arms, heaving as he'd been seconds away from breathing water instead. "I'm ok." Sam gasped finally. "Clawed me up a little…not bad."

"Crap. Come on." Dean pulled him toward the tree he'd been clinging to before and dragged him up onto the roots with him.

"Think you hurt it." Sam said as Dean helped him climb out and he let his back thump into the tree with a hiss of pain.

"Sure as hell hurt you." Dean muttered, seeing the rents in his brother's shirt across his chest.

"It's not that bad." Sam assured him but Dean just shook his head.

"Shut up and lemme look." Dean pulled the shirts up and frowned. Sam was right; the marks were shallow but long, trailing up the right side of his chest to his shoulder. He let the shirts drop and peered out into the night for any sign the Pookha's were coming back. "You hurt anywhere else?"

"Bumps and bruises." Sam told him and pushed himself up higher on the trunk. "Got banged around some when the wind took me." He smirked and pointed up. "Woke up hanging in the damn tree like a piñata."

Dean chuckled. "Good thing I didn't find you first." He stood and pulled Sam up with him. "I'd have had to take a few swings to get you down."

Sam snorted. "Why do you think I got myself loose?"

"We gotta get out of here. There's two of them." Dean pulled him along the roots and stopped at the water's edge. "You good for a swim?"

"Two?" Sam asked, surprised. In answer to his brother's question, he jumped into the water. He wished he still had his gun but it had been lost along with his flashlight in the tornado.

"I followed the other one to you." Dean said as he hit the water beside Sam. "Damn thing was fast."

"Huh." Sam pulled himself toward the next tree. "It led you to me?"

Dean chuckled. "I was shooting at it at the time. Don't think it was thinking, 'gosh I'll just lead this guy nicely to his brother before I snack on him."

Sam said nothing, pulling on the roots until he felt the bottom firm under his feet. He slipped in the muck, his arm falling beneath the roots under the tree and he yanked his arm back out quickly, getting a mouthful of water as he fell backwards. "Shit!"

"Sammy? What is it?" Dean pulled him back and aimed his gun at the tree.

"Someone's under there." Sam sputtered as he got his feet beneath him again. "I felt the face. It was cold."

Dean reached carefully beneath the tree, ready for surprises and felt an arm beneath his hand. He pulled, grunting with the effort and the body finally popped free, floating out between the roots.

"Ah hell." Sam groaned and looked sadly down on the face of Sarah Evan's father, long since dead.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean said, understanding the sadness on his face. "Let's go." Dean pushed until the lower half of the man's body was wedged under the tree again; he'd be easier for the authorities to find later. "We'll call from the road."

Sam nodded and followed Dean as they waded through the dark swamp. The footing gradually became easier, the ground firming as they neared the pine trees behind the Evan's house again. They stumbled from the Bayou, exhausted and aching and made their way back through the woods to the house on auto-pilot. When they emerged from the trees, Sam gave the Evan's home a sorrowful look, wishing that the daughter could have had her father back.

"Move, Sam." Dean took his arm and got him walking again. He'd stopped in the tree line staring and Dean could see he was close to done. Their clothes had begun to dry on the walk and fresh blood was beginning to ooze through the tears in Sam's shirt. "Gotta get you cleaned up before you end up with Tetanus or something."

"Don't think Pookha's carry Tetanus." Sam tossed back and gave a tired smile.

"So the friggin plague then." Dean pulled him on faster, wanting to reach the car and get them both away before the creatures came back for more. One gun between them did not give him confidence. He sighed in relief when they rounded the house and the Impala came into sight.

"You're limping." Sam said suddenly, looking down as he let Dean lead him along.

"Tree landed on me." Dean said ruefully and then frowned. "Would have been flattened if the other Pookha hadn't tackled me."

"Wait." Sam stopped. "It helped you twice?"

Dean jerked him back into motion. "I don't know, Sam. Maybe." Dean pushed him to the car and pulled the passenger door open before walking around to the driver's side and sliding in. "I don't know if it was saving me, more likely it got interrupted trying to eat me by a tree falling on me." He turned on the car and backed away from the house with a laugh. "When do the creatures ever wanna help us?"

Sam shook his head and shrugged but mulled the thought over as they drove.

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"Ow. Are you trying to make them worse?" Sam groused at Dean as he stitched closed two of the slashes on the front of Sam's shoulder. They'd been deeper than they looked and in an awkward place to stitch himself without standing in the mirror.

"Oh stop whining, ya big baby." Dean smirked and tied off the last stitch. He picked up the bottle of scotch from the table and poured a healthy amount over his handiwork, smiling as Sam yelped. "All better."

"Dude, you suck." Sam said but he shook his head, amused and took the bottle away from Dean. He took a healthy gulp and handed it back as he stood and went stiffly over to his bed.

Dean nodded happily and grabbed the remote, switching the TV on while Sam eased down onto the bed with a happy groan once he was lying flat. Dean's attention was taken by the news then as they announced a missing teenager and flashed a picture of a pretty red head. "Looks like they got another one last night." He said and looked over to see Sam rolling onto his side with effort. "Daisy Ruben. Seventeen."

"Dammit." Sam ground out as they spoke to a guy claiming to be her boyfriend who put her last where-a-bouts less than a mile from where they had been earlier on. "We were so close. She might still be alive, Dean."

"I know." Dean turned the TV off and looked over at him. "We're not going back out there tonight, dude. Besides, after that twister there aren't gonna be any tracks to follow and you look like you went a few rounds with Edward Scissorhands." He got up and went to the bed, tugging the blanket out from under Sam and tossed it over him. "First thing tomorrow, we'll go have a look in daylight. Ok?"

"Yeah." Sam settled back and tried to swallow the feeling they'd failed not just Sarah but the girl as well.

"Get some sleep, Sammy." Dean said and flipped off the light by the beds.

"It's Sam." He replied and rolled away, hoping he'd get one night of sound sleep from the nightmares that plagued him.

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Dean figured his brother got a whole three hours of sleep before he woke himself shouting Jess' name. He rolled out of bed and sat on the side of Sam's. "Sam. You awake?" He took Sam's shoulder in the dim light filtering in through the curtains and cursed as he felt the heat of a fever. "You just can't do anything by halves can you, Sammy?"

"I'm ok." Sam said finally, shaking himself out of the last of the nightmare.

"Sure you are." Dean reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, scowling at the pale, sweat slicked face of his brother as he squinted against the light. He went to their bag and dug the Tylenol out of the first aid kit and grabbed the bottle of whiskey on his way back to the bed. He set the bottle down and took Sam's hand, shaking a few of the pills into it. "No arguments, Sam. Take 'em." Then handed the bottle to him. "Bottoms up."

"I'm fine." Sam argued but Dean just nudged the hand with the pills toward his mouth.

"And you'll be better in the morning if you listen to me for a change." Dean raised a brow. "Or I can sit on you and make you take them. Pretty sure you'd lose right now." He shrugged and after a moment, Sam rolled his eyes in defeat and took them with a swig from the bottle.

"Real healthy prescription, doc." Sam said as he handed it back and Dean grinned.

"Hey, if one don't kill the pain, the other will. Go back to sleep." Dean set the bottle aside after a healthy swallow of his own and turned the light back off, climbing back into his bed with a grateful groan. He had his own bruises to nurse.

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_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER 4** _

Sam woke and stretched, hissing when the stitches in his shoulder pulled. He sat up carefully and surprisingly saw Dean still in his bed. Usually his big brother beat him up with complaints that if he didn't Sam would use all the hot water. "Dean?"

"Lemme'lone." Dean said grumpily from under his pillow.

Sam smirked and got up. "I'm taking a shower." He waited but only got a groan in response. "Suit yourself."

Dean listened to him close the bathroom door and gave a low groan of pain as he tried to shift his legs again. He'd been awake for over an hour but had yet to get up. His legs were a mass of ache and pain, refusing to cooperate with him. He pulled the pillow off his head and tugged the covers back, giving another heartfelt groan at the livid bruising on his legs from the Cypress tree. It had come up overnight and stiffened all the muscles.

"Get a grip." Dean told himself and sat up, dragging his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to be up and walking before Sam got out of the shower or he'd try to keep him out of the hunt and that wasn't happening. He leaned down to the end of the bed and got his fingers in the loops of his duffel, pulling it closer. If Sam saw his legs he was done. He pulled out a pair of jeans and managed to get them on without crying like a little girl, though it was close. He heard the shower turn on and took the bottle of Tylenol from the nightstand, dumped four into his hand and knocked them back with a pull from the whiskey bottle. "That'll get me walking." He said to himself and hoped he was right.

Sam emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later to find Dean leaned against the wall beside the door. "You think I left you any hot water?" He asked amused.

Dean gave him a shove out into the room. "Good thing I don't need one. Just let me piss then it's coffee and crime scene." He pulled the Impala's keys from his pocket and tossed them to him. "You can drive."

"Huh?" Sam asked, surprised and stared suspiciously at him.

"What? I'm beat." Dean rolled his eyes. "Some asshole woke me up twice last night crying like a girl."

"Did not." Sam retorted as Dean laughed.

"Did too." He said and shut the door on Sam's glare.

Sam shook his head and got dressed, convinced Dean was hiding something. He went outside and slid into the driver's seat with a smile. Even if Dean was hiding something, it was nice to be behind the wheel for a change as the engine rumbled to life. His brother emerged from the room a minute later and he watched closely as Dean walked stiffly to the car and dropped into the passenger seat.

"Something you wanna tell me?" Sam asked him but Dean shrugged.

"Get the damn car moving?" Dean said with a grin. "I need coffee." He dropped his head back to the seat and closed his eyes, feigning sleep and hoping Sam wouldn't press him.

"Whatever, dude." Sam sighed and resolved to keep a close eye on him.

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"Crap." Sam said as they pulled onto the lane leading to the Evan's house. Police cars sat in front of the house and officers and others could be seen heading into the woods. "Why are they still here?"

Dean frowned. He'd called an anonymous tip in last night as they left so Mr. Evan's body would be found. "They should've been gone hours ago."

Sam eased up behind one of the cruisers and got out. "Something else must have happened. Come on." He was twenty paces away from the car before he realized Dean wasn't beside him and turned back to find his big brother still in the seat with his legs on the ground and a death grip on the door as he struggled to stand.

"Ok, that's it." Sam strode back and glared down at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin." Dean said angrily and groaned as he got himself up finally.

"Well that's crap." Sam crossed his arms and kept him from walking away.

"I'm a little stiff, dude. That's all." Dean gave him a push and got around him, pushing the door shut. "Can we go talk to Reno 911 now?"

Sam shook his head and followed a pace behind him, watching him walk and silently berated his stubborn brother in his head as they reached the first of the officers. He and Dean both pulled out their FBI badges and flashed them. Sam noted the looks at their clothes; jeans and jackets and wished he'd thought to make them change before they left.

"Agent Gill. My partner, Agent Bob." Dean said and put his badge away. "What's going on here, officers?"

"Feds?" The taller of the two officers said in surprise. "Ok, well we found Daisy Ruben this morning and the body of Michael Evans."

"The missing girl?" Sam asked, stepping closer. "She's still alive?"

"Yeah." The cop nodded and smiled. "Little banged up. Found her down the bottom of a hill. She's at the hospital now."

"She say anything about how she got there?" Dean asked and the cop shook his head.

"Naw, she was out cold." He glanced back at the tree line to a man waving him over. "Paramedics said she'll be fine. Gotta go."

They watched him jog away toward the rest of the cops and Sam shrugged. "Well, we're not searching the Bayou today. Hope the Pookha's leave them alone."

"Let's go see if Daisy's back from Oz yet." Dean said and turned back to the car.

Sam followed and watched as his limp worsened and a sweat broke out on his face. "Dean, you're not alright."

"Shut up, Sam." Dean growled. "I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Sam looked down, remembering his comment about a tree falling on him. He smirked and decided nothing but an abject lesson was going to make Dean listen. He gave no warning as he bent over and wrapped a hand around Dean's leg below his knee, squeezing gently. Dean gasped, the leg going out from under him and Sam was forced to grab him and hold him up.

"That was…bullshit." Dean gasped. His eyes were closed and he was panting.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same to me." Sam chuckled and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulders to help him back to the car.

"That's different." Dean ground out between his teeth and felt thoroughly humiliated.

"I'm going to the hospital and you're going back to the Motel." Sam told him, his tone offering no room for argument. "You can soak the ache out in the tub while I go talk to the girl."

"You're all heart." Dean said with a glare as Sam got him into the front seat and closed the door for him. "I can come to the hospital, bitch."

Sam gave him a look and laughed. "You come into the hospital with me and I promise to turn you over to a Nurse first chance I get and with that limp, they'll probably pounce you anyway."

"Oh that is just evil, Sammy." Dean elbowed him.

"Jerk." Sam tossed back and headed back to the motel with a satisfied smile.

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The Bayou Goula hospital was little more than a glorified clinic. Sam strode in and flashed his badge at the desk nurse. "I need to speak with Daisy Ruben if she's awake."

"Oh. Officer, just let me check with her doctor." The Nurse smiled prettily up at him beneath a fringe of black hair and Sam did his best not to blush as she dashed away. She was back moments later with an aging white man in a white jacket and bald head who gave him a severe look.

"Daisy's only just woken up and I don't want some Federal ass badgering her with pointless questions." The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin out at Sam.

"Doctor…?" Sam raised a brow at him and smiled.

"Erickson and don't smile at me like we're friends." He glared at Sam. "I've dealt with Feds before and I got no respect for any of ya."

"Doctor Erickson, I promise I won't do anything to upset her or tire her." Sam smiled again, doing his best to defuse the man. "I just need to know if she remembers anything. If someone attacked her…" Sam paused to let that sink in. "We need to know so we can stop it happening to some other poor girl. Please."

The Doctor wasn't taken in and snorted at him. "I'll give you five minutes with her but you mark me, boy. That girl has so much as one tear on her face when I come back in there you aint walkin' outta here on your own."

Sam stared wide-eyed at him. So did the nurse and he nodded. "That won't be necessary." Sam told him and wondered what the guy had had to deal with in the past to be this angry.

"Fine. Follow me." Doctor Erickson turned on his heel and strode back into the hospital leaving Sam to follow or not. His fast stride told Sam he didn't really care. He led Sam down a hall and pulled open a room door, putting a smile on his face as he entered. "Daisy? How are you feeling?"

Sam smirked at the suddenly warm tone of the Doctor's previously frosty voice and the kind eyes he turned on the girl lying in the bed.

"I'm ok. I guess." Daisy said in a tired voice, looking up to see them. Her face reddened slightly as she saw Sam, her mouth dropping slightly open in a little 'oh' of surprise.

"This man is a Federal Agent. He'd like to ask you some questions." Doctor Erickson took one of her hands in his and smiled. "You can say no. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. I promise."

"Oh, I don't m-mind." Daisy peeked around the Doctor at Sam and reddened again. "Really, it's ok."

"Hmmph. Alright then." The Doctor patted her hand and set it back. "I'll be right outside. You call if you need anything."

Sam waited until he'd closed the door behind him and went to stand by the bed. "Hi Daisy." He smiled down at her. "I'm Sam. I just want to ask you a few questions. Alright?"

"Uh huh." She smoothed her hair back from her face and stared at a spot on the blanket at her feet, embarrassed.

Sam smiled, thinking Dean would have loved this. "Do you remember what happened to you? How you ended up at the bottom of that hill?" He paused and touched her shoulder gently. "It's ok if you think it sounds weird. I won't laugh."

"Well, there was uh…this cat." Daisy glanced up at him, cheeks red and looked back down. "It was pouring and the little guy was dripping so I tried to catch him, you know?" She smirked at herself. "He made me chase him off the path and then…" Here she stopped and looked up with wide eyes. "You won't believe me."

"I will." Sam pulled a chair over and sat beside the bed. "No laughing, remember? What happened next?"

Daisy took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Well there was this horse. I mean, I heard it first back on the path and when I tried to go back after it, the cat dug its claws in my jeans." She looked up earnestly. "He didn't hurt me but he didn't want me to go. Then…then it came at me. The horse." She looked around fearfully for a moment and Sam put a hand on her shoulder again to calm her. "It was black and big and there were chains on it!"

"It tried to hurt you?" Sam asked softly and she nodded.

"But the cat…he, I don't know, pushed me or something. I fell down the hill." Daisy shrugged. "I don't remember anything after that. It's totally crazy isn't it?"

Sam gave her his best, brilliant smile. "Not even a little. Other people have seen that horse too."

"Really?" She asked and looked a lot happier. "Oh I feel so much better!" She grinned. "I mean, it was just so weird, you know?" Sam nodded. At that moment the door opened and Doctor Erickson strode back in.

"Daisy, you alright?" The Doctor asked and studied her face for any sign she was upset, instead seeing a happy smile and frowned.

"Oh yes." She looked back up at Sam, smiling. "Thank you so much for listening to me."

"Of course. I'd like to check in on you again, make sure you're doing alright." Sam gave her a smile. "Would that be alright?"

"Oh definitely." Daisy's smile widened as her face reddened.

Sam gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks for helping us out." He turned to leave and came up short against Doctor Erickson in the doorway. The Doctor stared up at him, eyes calculating and finally he gave a short nod and moved, letting Sam leave.

Rather than leave, Sam waited for him in the hall and smirked at the surprise on the Doctor's face when he saw him still there. "I do have a question for you, Doctor Erickson."

"Oh really?" The Doctor folded his arms, balanced on the balls of his feet like he was going to hit Sam.

"My partner and I were caught out in the Tornado last night." Sam said and nodded at the surprise on his face. "A tree rolled onto his legs. They're not broken but he's bruised enough he's having trouble walking. Any suggestions what I can do to help him?"

Doctor Erickson stared and then rolled his eyes, giving a sigh as if in defeat. "Oh hell, come on." He led the way further down the hall and into an exam room. He rifled through several drawers and came up with a tube of cream. "Have him rub this in for the next couple days. It'll help with the swelling and the pain." He gave Sam a critical look then. "You get hurt?"

"Oh, just some bumps, scratches, that sort of thing." Sam brushed the question off and pocketed the cream. "I'm fine."

"Favorin' your right shoulder." The Doctor said and then grinned at Sam's face. "Just cause I don't like you don't mean I wasn't paying attention. Sit." He pointed imperiously at the exam table but Sam shook his head.

"Really, it's fine. My partner cleaned it up last night." Sam took a step back but the Doctor grabbed his right arm and pulled him back. The motion made Sam close his eyes for a moment and he found himself sitting.

"Open your shirt and don't give me any crap." Doctor Erickson ordered.

"Your bedside manner sucks." Sam said with a short laugh and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt.

Doctor Erickson actually chuckled at that and nodded. "Yeah, it does." He pulled Sam's shirt away from his shoulder and peeled back the bandage over the claw marks. "Thought you said scratches?" He poked gently at the red, slightly inflamed tissue around the stitches and frowned when Sam hissed with discomfort. "That's infected. What gotcha?"

"Not really sure." Sam replied, unwilling to start talking about Pookha's. "I was, uh...unconscious at the time."

The Doctor grabbed his head, yanking it down and ignored Sam's surprised yelp. His hand ran over the back of Sam's head and easily found the lump that had been beating a headache at him since last night.

"Not bad." He pushed Sam's head back up and looked carefully at his eyes. "Minor concussion then. How many fingers?" He held up his left hand and his middle finger with a huge grin and Sam barked a loud laugh.

"Just the one." Sam shook his head and ran a hand through his hair to straighten it while the Doctor chuckled and dug through the drawer again, coming up with a pill bottle.

"Here. Antibiotics. One pill twice a day and next time you Feds get the urge to dodge twisters and play Dorothy, rent the damn movie instead." Doctor Erickson rolled his eyes at Sam. "Now get the hell out of my hospital, Fed."

"Yes, sir." Sam said and hid his smirk as he turned away out the door. He took out his cell as he emerged outside and dialed Dean. They were definitely dealing with two distinct Pookhas; one trying to save people from the other trying to kill them. He listened to the ringing and frowned when it went to voicemail. "Dean, you're right there are two of them. One's helping people and the other's killing them. Where are you? I'm on my way back." He hung up, put the phone away and got in the car with a tingling feeling at the back of his neck.

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Dean tossed one way and then the other on the bed. The bath had loosened some of the muscles but the bruising was bone deep. "Hurts like a bitch." He muttered to the empty room and glared at the yellow star on the ceiling. He was stuck lying around in a bed while Sam was out doing actual work and that was driving him nuts. Worse, Sam was driving his baby without him in it and that made his teeth itch. He glanced at his cell on the nightstand and refused to call Sam for the tenth time and let him know how useless he felt.

"Dammit." Dean sat up and dropped his aching legs to the floor. "I'm freakin' starving." He remembered there was a sandwich shop a couple blocks down from the motel. "I can make that." He told himself and stood then fell back to sit on the bed as pain shot up his legs and into his head. "Ow." He stubbornly stood back up and made his legs work. He could have used another two hours in the tub if the hot water had held out…though he wouldn't tell Sam that. Kid was already enjoying mothering him way too much. He made it to the room door, opening it and supported himself in the doorway for a minute just breathing.

Dean pushed himself off the door, pulling it closed and hobbled down the line of rooms slowly. He almost turned around and went back, considered finding out if the motel owner had crutches but his pride wouldn't let him.

"I am not a damn invalid." Dean growled and stepped down carefully into the grass at the end of the building. The road to his right was quiet and beyond the motel a short field ended at a heavy line of trees. He shuffled through the grass toward the sidewalk and stopped as the soft 'mrow' of a cat reached his ears. He looked toward the forest and saw a black cat sitting ten feet away.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." Dean backed up a step and the cat looked up at him, red eyes meeting his. Dean felt his shoulders stiffen and then loosen, arms hanging lazily at his sides and couldn't stop himself from following the cat as it headed for the trees. He cursed himself for not putting Sam's stinky crap on his eyes before leaving and tried to ignore the pain in his legs as he was forced into a fast walk, unable to fight the urge to follow.

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_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Because someone asked: The Pookha, or Puca, is a legitimate creature of Faerie in Irish folklore and in many other European countries. :D I rarely create my own baddies. I try to live up to the show I love and do my research, choosing creatures from folklore and myth around the world. I occasionally take a liberty or two for the sake of the story, but you will always be able to Google my creatures and find them. LOL

_**CHAPTER 5** _

Sam parked the Impala in front of the motel and all but ran to the room. He'd tried his brother's cell twice more with no answer and his nerves were truly on edge now. He burst in the door and groaned at no sight of Dean. Worry edged quickly into his stomach when he found Dean's cell sitting on the bedside table.

"Dammit, Dean. Where the hell are you?" Sam went back outside and saw a housekeeping cart at the room next to theirs. He went to the room and knocked on the open door, startling the man cleaning the room. "Excuse me. Uh, my brother and I are in the room next door."

"Yeah. Seen ya." The man came out with an armful of towels and dropped them into his cart before running a hand through his greasy, dark hair.

"Ok, that's good. Have you seen my brother today?" Sam asked quickly. "Like in the last hour or so?"

"Yeah, he limped outta here a while back." The man smiled a toothless smile. "Saw him headin' off inta the field after some damn cat." He hissed a laugh between his teeth. "He soft on cats or somethin'?"

Sam felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Yeah. Yeah thanks." He went quickly to the Impala's trunk, flinging it open and armed himself with a pistol loaded with iron rounds, strapped the machete to his hip again and slammed it shut. He took precious seconds to run back into the room and take the first aid kit. He had no idea what condition Dean would be in when he found him. He gave a last glance around the room and ran. He pelted down the long line of rooms and ran across the field toward the woods beyond, uncaring if anyone saw him.

"Dean!" Sam shouted once inside the trees. He slowed his pace and searched the ground for any tracks. He spotted the familiar print of Dean's boot and then another further on. He silently thanked Bobby for all the hunting trips when they were young and lessons on tracking as he followed the prints and broken underbrush deeper into the forest. "Dean!" Sam shouted again and finally he heard a muffled response. He broke into a run again and belatedly realized he'd left without putting any St. John's Wort on his eyelids.

"Dammit." He muttered under his breath while he ran and hoped he wouldn't regret it. "Dean?" He called again and this time his brother's voice was close. He pushed through a head high screening of bushes and ran to him, seated at the base of a large tree. Sam dropped to his knees beside him. "Dean! Are you hurt?"

"I'm ok." Dean swatted away Sam's hands as they checked him for injury. "Just didn't feel like walking back to the motel just yet."

"Dude, what the hell happened?" Sam rocked back onto his heels and looked around the clearing. "The housekeeper guy back at the motel said you followed a cat out here."

"Pookha." Dean said and chuckled. "Dude, I feel like friggin Alice. I just had a conversation with a damn cat." He laughed. "You see a caterpillar with a Hooka you let me know."

"Could you please be serious?" Sam rolled his eyes. "For five minutes. What happened?"

"I forgot to put that stinky crap of yours on my eyes when I left, that's what." Dean shook his head at himself. "Stupid." He shifted his legs with a groan. "Damn thing caught me and man, I couldn't stop myself. I had to follow it. Like a damn pied piper."

"But it didn't hurt you." Sam nodded. "Daisy said she followed a cat off the path, that it tried to protect her from a black horse trying to trample her."

"Yeah, there's two of them. Help me up." Dean raised his arms and let Sam pull him up, steadying him against the tree while he grimaced with pain.

"Got something for you from the asshole Doctor at the hospital." Sam smirked. "Guy really hates Feds." He pulled Dean's arm over his shoulders and started them moving. "So what did the Pookha say?"

Dean snorted. "The other one's gone postal, basically. Something about its farmers leaving and man's machines destroying the land."

"Pookhas traditionally follow harvests." Sam nodded. "Farmers leave a little behind in the fields, like a tribute and the Pookhas take it. If someone bulldozed the fields it was protecting that could definitely have set it off."

"Yeah well, it said the crazy one has our scent now." Dean looked up at him. "Specifically, it has your scent now, from your blood." He poked a finger into Sam's right shoulder and smirked when he winced. "It seems to think it'll be coming for you." He glowered out at the trees then, promising himself that he wouldn't let that happen. "At least I know you didn't come running out here without putting that glop on." Dean said and then jerked his head at his brother when he said nothing. "Sammy?"

"Let's get you back to the motel." Sam said, studiously avoiding looking at Dean.

"Dude. You did." Dean delivered a punch to Sam's stomach; even pulled it still doubled him up with a grunt. "Are you tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"You did the same damn thing!" Sam argued and straightened, lurching Dean into a faster walk.

"Hey I got hit with the supernatural Neural Neutralizer!" Dean glared at him. "What's your excuse?"

Sam rolled his eyes as they emerged from the trees into the sun. "I thought my brother was being killed." He said simply and got them moving toward the motel.

Dean understood the sentiment but he landed a lighter punch on Sam's stomach anyway. "Doesn't do me any good if you end up dead before you find me. Dad taught you better than that." He groaned as they stepped up onto the sidewalk. "I taught you better than that, Sammy."

"Just…shut up, ok?" Sam muttered. He opened their room door when they got there and eased Dean down on his bed before shutting the door. He dug the cream out of his pocket and tossed it to him. "The Doctor said to rub this on your legs. It's supposed to help with the pain and swelling."

"Help me back up then." Dean used the bed and Sam's arm to pull himself up and hobbled toward the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said finally.

Dean shook his head and smiled. "It's ok, Sammy. I screwed up too. Just…how about we not tell Dad?"

"Crap, no." Sam raised his hands in agreement. "He'd kill us."

Dean smirked. "Well, he'd definitely kill _you_. I'd just get a beating." He shut the door on Sam's laugh.

Sam mentally kicked himself for being so stupid, especially in light of what the Pookha had told his brother. He went to his bag and took out the bottle of oil, quickly dabbing some onto his eyelids. He'd do the same to Dean when he came back out. There was no use in taking chances now. If the good Pookha could find them here, so could the crazy one.

Dean emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later re-buckling his belt with a relieved smile on his face. "I'm sending your Doctor friend a damn fruit basket." He walked easier than he had going in and sat on the end of his bed with a smile to put his boots back on. "I still want food."

"Yeah, that'll win him over. Hold still." Sam daubed more oil on his fingers and grabbed Dean's chin, tilting his head up. "No more mistakes." Dean groaned but closed his eyes so Sam could apply it.

"Stuff smells like ass." Dean grumbled and Sam chuckled, stepping back.

"So wipe it off if you wanna get led around by a cat again." Sam told him.

"Well, I do like chasing pu…"

"Dean." Sam groaned, cutting him off before he could finish. "Can we just go eat before you kill my appetite?"

Dean chuckled and stood, smiling that it didn't cause him near as much pain and followed his brother out.

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"You don't think this is a little suspicious?" Dean asked Sam as they rounded the empty strip mall toward the bayou behind it, sparkling in the mid-day sun. The businesses had long since gone belly up and all that was left were empty, painted shop windows and empty crates and boxes littering the cracked pavement behind it. "That Pookha's been hitting people in the same damn place and now it moves its hunting ground?" Dean threw a finger over his shoulder. "Three blocks from our motel?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't matter. We still have to try and save the guy, Dean." While they'd been finishing their lunch, the aging television in the diner had popped on with the news of another missing person behind the little defunct strip mall. Sam ducked under the crime scene tape swaying in the warm breeze, surprised that the local police had already cleared out. "You'd think they'd still be here searching."

"Yet another reason to leave." Dean grumbled but followed his brother, drawing his pistol along his leg as they stepped down onto the soft ground beyond the pavement. "I don't like this one damn bit. You should wait in the car…better yet the motel. I can handle this."

"We're not having this argument again." Sam rolled his eyes. He followed a strip of mostly dry land extending out into the Bayou, gun ready and senses alert. He swiped a hand over his brow, unsure if the sweat was from the mid-day heat or the low fever he was sure he was running that Dean hadn't yet noticed. If he had, Sam knew his brother would have tied him down rather than let him out. He smirked. Dean's radar for him seemed to have dulled a bit in the years Sam had been off to college.

Dean ground his teeth together and kept close to Sam's back. The television report had included a witness statement of a man being dragged into the Bayou by a great, black bear with red eyes. He wondered if perhaps the police had skipped off so soon because they thought it was a hoax. Walking silently beneath the Cypress trees did little to cut the muggy heat of the day. While it was nice to not need a flashlight for a change, he wished they'd been able to wait for the cooler night. He tugged the collar of his shirt away from his neck trying to flush cooler air against his skin.

"Next hunt we take better be up north somewhere." Dean said miserably and saw Sam give a nod in agreement. His little brother's hair was plastered to his forehead already, his shirts like Dean's, spotted with sweat. He checked the ground at their feet and scowled. "It's leaving us a hell of an obvious trail Sam."

"I know." Sam knew they were being led. The Pookha's trail was evident, wide footprints and drag marks through the soft earth above the sluggish waters of the Bayou…it wanted them to find it. "We can't just leave the guy to die. He might still be alive."

"I know, Sammy." Dean said softly, shaking his head at his brother's soft heart. "You hear that?" He stepped up beside his brother, body tense as something splashed into the water very near them. The sound echoed off the Cypress trees making it impossible to tell where it had come from.

"Could be an animal." Sam said softly, peering out along the water, between the trees. They both lurched into motion as the sound of a man groaning reached their ears. "Hello? Where are you?" Sam called, running easily along the path and outpacing Dean's still stiff legs.

"Sam, stay close!" Dean yelled and tried to close the sudden distance between them. The salve was helping but not enough to let him sprint and with Sam's long legs, sprinting was a necessity.

"I think he's this way!" Sam called back and skidded around a wide tree, leading with his gun.

"Sam, dammit!" Dean forced his legs to move faster as Sam rounded the tree out of his sight. The sharp pop of a gun filled the air and then Sam's shout as he was tumbled back into sight.

Sam gasped as he hit the ground and rolled to land on his back as the Pookha reared up at him from within the gnarled roots of a Cyprus. It still held the form of a large, black bear; red eyes gleaming with malice as it heartlessly stepped on the face of the man it had taken and killed him on its way to Sam. He raised his gun, still held tightly in his hand and fired at the same moment his brother's gun sounded. The double impact knocked the Pookha back into the still waters. It screamed in outrage as it sank below the surface.

"Up. Get up!" Dean bent and grabbed Sam's right arm to haul him up, heedless of the hiss of pain from his brother.

"It killed him." Sam said, breathless and kept his gun trained on the water.

Dean glanced over and saw the red ruin of the man's face. "Poor sucker. Come on." Dean tugged on the back of Sam's shirt. "We're going. Someone had to hear those shots."

Sam nodded and focused on breathing around the new pain in his healing shoulder. "Ok." He backed away from the edge of the Bayou with Dean, sure that the trickle he could feel down his chest meant he'd popped a few stitches. They backed quickly out of the swamp and reluctantly put up their guns when they reached the parking lot, not wanting to alarm anyone who might be watching.

"We can't just leave that thing in there, Dean." Sam said as they went quickly around the front of the strip mall. "It'll just kill someone else."

'to get at you.' Dean thought to himself and shook his head. "We're not leaving it, Sam. We're just not gonna walk into another damn trap." He pulled open the driver's door of the Impala and slid behind the wheel as Sam got in. "We'll go after it tonight where we know it'll be."

"The Bayou behind the Evan's house." Sam said and nodded. It was the one place the Pookha kept coming back too and a good bet the creature's nest was there somewhere among the Cypress trees. The drive back to the motel took only minutes, close as they were and Dean threw himself out of the car, letting them back into the room.

"Pack it up, Sammy." Dean ordered and pulled his duffel from under his bed. "That damn thing knows we're here. We aint staying."

"Like there's anywhere else we can go around here where it won't find us." Sam shrugged and started packing his own duffel. "Town isn't exactly expansive."

Dean snorted. "It's a friggin swamp but we'll find somewhere else." He tossed Sam's jacket too him. "We'll go over to White Castle and come back tonight."

They quickly packed the room, Sam loading the Impala's trunk while Dean checked them out. Sam shut the trunk and felt a tingle between his shoulders. He turned to look down at the end of the motel and saw a large black cat sitting at the corner of the building. He took a few steps toward it, one hand raised out.

"Uh…hello?" Sam said softly and hoped it was the friendly Pookha that had lured away his brother. "I sure hope you're not here to eat me." He inched his other hand behind his back, fingers wrapping around the grip of his gun. "Dean said you spoke to him." He took another step forward. "If it was you." He whispered as he neared. The cat watched him, head angled up and red eyes flashing in the late afternoon sun. He drew the pistol, laying it along his thigh as his instincts started to yell at him. Sam took a step back. The Pookha rose from its seated position and arched its back, a deep growl rumbling out from its body.

"Oh crap." Sam breathed and hoped this wouldn't be the stupid decision that ended his life as the creature paced toward him and he backed another step, risking a glance over his shoulder for his brother but Dean was still in the office. He looked back at the cat that seemed to have grown larger and groaned. "Wrong Pookha."

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_To Be Continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

_**CHAPTER 6  
** _

Sam backed another step. The Pookha crouched on its back end and readied itself it to launch at Sam's head. It gave a louder growl and Sam started bringing the gun up but he wasn't going to be fast enough. He knew it. It all happened in a split second: His gun was too low, the Pookha erupted from the ground in a blur of movement and the Housekeeper Sam had spoken too suddenly stepped out of the room beside him, lanky black hair flying as he took the full force of the creature's attack. He fell back into Sam and knocked them both into the ground. The Pookha howled in frustration as its weight bored both men into the pavement. Sam gasped for breath beneath them and tried to free his gun arm to take a shot. The Pookha seemed to sense its danger and turned in a flurry of motion to disappear around the side of the motel.

"Crap!" Sam gasped. "Hey! You alright?" He rolled the man off of him and reared back in disgust. The Pookha had gutted the poor guy. He wrapped a hand around the burning ache in his right shoulder from the popped stitches and sat back against the wall just getting his breath back.

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean sprinted the length of the motel, skidding to a stop beside his brother and pulled him quickly to his feet. "What the hell happened?"

"Pookha." Sam said shortly. "Thought maybe it was the one you spoke to but uh…" He looked down at the dead man and sighed. "That was meant for me."

Dean felt the blood drain from his face and tightened his grip on Sam's arm. "Ok, we're outta here. Get in the car." He followed Sam to the Impala and closed him inside before looking around the parking lot for anyone who may have seen what happened. Thankfully the place was quiet. Dean made a quick trip back through their room for anything left behind and, satisfied there was nothing, dashed back out and had them on the road in minutes.

"Really starting to hate shape shifting monsters." Dean growled as he sped out of Bayou Goula and toward White Castle. He glanced over at Sam and frowned. Dean whipped a hand out and turned Sam slightly toward him. The right side of his shirt was spotted with blood, darker at the shoulder. "You're bleeding? Why are you bleeding?"

"Just a couple popped stitches." Sam told him and pushed his hand away. "It's no big deal." Sam was replaying the Pookha's attack in his head, wondering if there had been a way he could have saved the poor Housekeeper. He should have been able to do something.

"It's not your fault, Sam." Dean said and gave a small smile at the surprise on his brother's face. "If it hadn't been that poor sucker, it would have been you and, no offense to the other guy but I'll take that trade."

Sam nodded but stayed quiet. He couldn't as easily dismiss the guilt that he'd caused the man's death. He added to the list of deaths he was responsible for in one way or another and was glad Dean didn't know he was keeping count or that the very first name on his list…was Mom.

Once they reached White Castle Dean hit up the nearest drive through, starving as he was and loaded them up with salads and burgers before finding the nearest motel. He bypassed the first two as they both backed onto forests and he'd had enough of creature house calls. The third he found in a seedy neighborhood, no trees in sight and backed up against a baseball stadium…well it said stadium but it was more a glorified covered field. It made him itch to leave Sam in the car while getting the room and he couldn't stop himself from practically standing in the door so he could see his brother in the car. He flipped Sam his favorite finger the second time he rolled his eyes at Dean's over protective attitude.

They trudged up the two flights of stairs to their third floor room and Dean gave a happy sigh when he opened the door and saw a ceiling free of the giant yellow star from the old room. "Much better." He said and went inside, setting the weapons bag on the dresser across from the beds. Wood floors, white stucco walls and maroon curtains matching the spreads on the bed made for a much more inviting room.

Dean opened the weapons bag and pulled out the first aid kit. "Shirts off, dude." He ordered his brother and gave him a warning glare not to argue.

Sam sighed and sat. "It's really not that bad." He got the shirts off his left arm easily but had to take a few deep breaths before he managed to pull them over his head and off his right arm. "Ok, it hurts but it's still not bad."

"Uh huh." Dean bent for a closer look and clenched his jaw. The skin around the claw marks was dark red, starting to swell and obviously infected. "Thought the Doc gave you something for this."

"He did." Sam hissed when Dean pressed into the wound to remove the first of the broken stitches. "Hasn't had time to work yet really."

"No shit." Dean was gentle but as sensitive as the inflamed wounds were he had no choice but to cause him pain. "Whiskey bottles in the bag." Dean told him with a smirk. "Doctor Dean prescribes a few swallows for the pain."

"Dude." Sam groaned, rolled his eyes and pulled the bottle out. "That is just…a damn disturbing image. Ick."

"Ick?" Dean jabbed his good shoulder. "Are you five?" He chuckled when Sam spluttered after the first healthy gulp. "And a girl."

"Eat me." Sam retorted and Dean groaned.

"Dude, _that's_ disturbing." Dean told him and got the last popped stitch out. "Bottle." Sam handed it to him and Dean tipped a generous amount out over the wounds. "If that don't kill the infection it'll at least get it drunk." He pulled over the suture kit and handed the bottle back to his brother. Dean braced a hand on Sam's shoulder and frowned. "You're warm."

Sam snorted. "Man it's like ninety in here. Of course I'm warm." Dean shrugged and set the first stitch for which Sam was grateful. For once he was happy they we're stuck somewhere muggy and hot, the better to hide the fever the antibiotics hadn't yet beaten.

Dean finished off the three stitches and taped a bandage over the wounds. "All done, kiddo. Now eat something." He stood and pulled a salad out of the take out bag, sliding it in front of him.

"Not hungry." Sam started to stand but Dean shoved him back.

"Don't care. You wanna go hunt this bitch tonight you're gonna eat something first." Dean smiled wickedly at him. "Or I can tie your ass to the bed and go handle it myself." He gave Sam's pale, sweat slicked face a critical look. "Which might not be a bad idea."

"Fine, I'll eat." Sam rolled his eyes at him again and popped the lid off the salad. "We need to gank this thing for sure tonight."

Dean nodded. "Before Dad shows up asking what the hell we're doing wrong." He said ruefully and bit into a burger as he sat and eased his aching legs out in front of him. "We stick together tonight. No splitting up." He watched Sam shove salad around with his fork. "You know that tastes better when you actually eat it."

"Geez, Mom." Sam groaned but took a bite to shut him up. "I got it. Stay together and no running off just cause my big brother's a big gimp." Sam smirked and ducked the ketchup coated pickle chip that came flying at him.

"Shut up." Dean finished off his burger and stood. "I'm takin a shower." He grabbed his bag from the floor and pinned Sam with a stern look. "Don't leave the room. I don't think that thing'll come after us here but let's be safe."

"Yes, Mom." Sam chuckled and flung a piece of lettuce after him. He finished half his salad while Dean showered, knowing Dean would check on him like a little kid and pushed it away with a short laugh. By the time Dean came out he'd donned clean shirts and managed to drop his fever a degree or two by sitting on the floor with his head in the mini-fridge. He'd felt ridiculous but he no longer felt as woozy and figured it was worth it. Now all he had to do was hide it from Dean for the rest of the day.

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"I don't like it, Sammy." Dean said as they entered the woods behind the Evan's house again. It was well after midnight, the moon hidden behind clouds and their flashlights cut misty beams through the low fog covering the ground inside the trees. "This thing is out for you and you're not a hundred percent to begin with." He glanced over to see Sam wipe sweat off his forehead; more evidence of the fever his little brother was trying to ignore and deluding himself into thinking he was hiding.

"I'll be fine, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "It's two on one and we've got a Pookha on our side. What could possibly go wrong?" He said with a smirk as Dean groaned and glared at him.

"Dude, are you asking for this to go sideways?" Dean waved his arms in frustration. "Why would you say that?"

"Cause it makes your eyes cross." Sam said in good humor and smiled wider at the death glare his brother sent him. In truth, he wasn't feeling well at all and would have gladly curled up in his bed in the motel if he hadn't known Dean would come out here on his own. Dean in the bayou in the dark with no backup was not something he was willing to let happen, no matter how crappy he felt. In a perfect world he'd have been able to lie up for a few days and let Doctor Erickson's antibiotics have a chance to work but when was their world ever perfect?

"Just…stay close." Dean didn't want him out of his sight until they ganked the damn Pookha. Dean had checked the news after his shower earlier, wanting to see what the police were making of the dead housekeeper but no matter how many channels he checked, there was nothing. Finally, his curiosity making his teeth itch, he'd called the motel. He'd said he'd stayed there recently and wanted to thank the Housekeeper. The Motel's owner had tartly informed him that if he'd stayed, he'd know damn well they didn't have one and never had. Dean had hung up and spent a few minutes just staring at Sam before informing him he'd been saved by a guy who didn't exist. Sam had concluded it had to have been Dean's good Pookha, which was the only explanation and the man HAD had black hair. They were shapeshifters after all. It wasn't beyond reason and would explain why no one had reported a dead body. Dean still didn't like it. It was too convenient and the man's eyes hadn't been red, a trait that so far he had seen from the Pookha in every form it took.

"Dean. You paying attention?" Sam said when he noticed Dean's faraway look. His brother jerked his head and nodded.

"Let's make this the last time we have to wade into this damn swamp." Dean said as they reached the edge of the Bayou. He wished they had the moonlight to help them see or a stiff wind to blow off the mist clinging to the water's surface. He'd rubbed a liberal amount of the numbing cream Sam had gotten him into his legs before they left and winced when he realized the water was just going to wash it off.

Sam followed as Dean took the lead, letting him set the slower pace his bruised legs needed and stared out into the misty swamp. "This fog sucks." He groaned after a minute. "The Pookha could be three feet away in the water and we wouldn't see it."

"Well that makes me feel all kinds of better, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes. He followed the dry land bridge as far out into the Bayou as they could go, Sam staying close behind him and finally they had no choice but to get wet. "You're sure you can find this thing's lair?"

"We had to be close to it when we found the father's body." Sam nodded and slipped into the water, frowning as the mist closed over his head. "It's the only logical reason I can think of why it would have stuffed him under that tree." He felt the water slosh against his shoulders as Dean entered the water beside him. He ducked his head a little and smiled. "There's a clear space between the water and the mist. Duck your head." He waded out in the direction he thought the Pookha's lair was and felt Dean beside him. He could just see his brother's shoulders beside him as he moved, keeping his gun and flashlight above the waters' surface. The only sound was their own movement, sending ripples out across the bayou. Sam swallowed a groan as the water saturated the bandage on his shoulder and made the claw marks begin to burn while the water itself was a cool balm on his fevered body.

Dean swept an arm out and grasped hold of Sam's arm. "Stay close. I'm not losing you in this crap." He ordered softly. They waded into the bayou shoulder to shoulder, going wide around the bases of the ancient Cypress trees, Dean trusting Sam's sense of direction to get them where they needed to be.

"We're close." Sam whispered as they eased around a tree he knew to be the one where they'd found the body. Dean grabbed his arm again suddenly and jerked him to a stop. "What?"

"You hear that?" Dean said softly and let go of Sam's arm to grab a root instead, pulling himself up slightly.

Sam strained his ears and sucked in a breath as he heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls somewhere just beyond them. A moment later something splashed into the water nearby and went silent.

"Out." Dean told him and pulled him over to the tree. "Get above the damn mist." He pulled himself up the roots and onto the base of the tree, Sam beside him as a low growl rumbled through the mist filled night and froze them both in place. "Oh crap."

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_To Be Continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER 7** _

"So much for sneaking up on it." Sam muttered. He moved around the tree, higher on the roots and felt his way carefully out onto the land bridge he knew was there.

"Wait up." Dean growled and came behind him, his legs cramping as the last of the numbness began to wear off. He shined the beam of his flashlight out over the mist, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the light failed to cut the fog to the surface of the water. It swirled about their feet lazily in the weak breeze of the night air.

"This way I think." Sam said softly and walked slowly towards a collection of Cypress trees. He inched his feet along, making sure to keep them on the semi-solid ground of the land bridge. He twitched at every sound, every unexplained ripple from the water just beneath and around them and could feel Dean's tense presence at his back. "Has to be right around here."

"Hope you're right cause we're not doing this again." Dean tried to shake the ache out of his right leg. "Friggin swamp in the middle of the damn night with a shape shifting bad ass out for your blood. Oh yeah, this is my idea of fun."

Sam snorted a laugh. "You'll be happy once you get to shoot something."

"Damn straight." Dean smiled and then frowned as Sam wiped a hand over his face ahead of him. He studied his little brother and realized he was slightly hunched and the stripe of skin between his hair and his collar was flushed. Dean shook his head and reached a hand out, landing it on the back of Sam's neck. "Dammit, Sammy."

Sam flinched away from his hand and groaned. "It's just a fever, Dean. It's nothing. I'm fine. Focus."

"I am focused on my idiot little brother." Dean growled and fisted his hand in the back of Sam's shirt, stopping him. "I'm taking point." Dean stepped ahead of him with a glare. "Oughta run your ass right back to the motel. You know that."

"And have to come back out here again?" Sam smirked. "Yeah right."

"Shut up." Dean ordered suddenly and froze.

"What?" Sam asked and followed his brother's line of sight out into the mist. "You see something?"

Dean nodded. "Just for a second." He whispered, gun trained on the mist obscured swamp where he'd seen something briefly shift up through the fog. They waited; watching for the Pookha they knew was nearby, eyes straining into the darkness and the silence wearing on their nerves. "You see anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. I can't…" He was cut off as the water behind them erupted. They turned in time to see a large, black form rising out of the fog dripping water. It swiped Dean aside, tossing him into the bayou and wrapped its other furred arm around Sam, pulling him off his feet and bounding along the land bridge.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted and pulled himself back out of the water. He'd lost his flashlight but not his gun and got off three rounds, watching the hulking, bear form of the Pookha flinch with each hit before it toppled forward and slid into the fog. "Sam!"

Sam fell into the ground and slid as the Pookha went down, the impact jarring the infected wounds in his shoulder and stealing his breath from him. He came to rest and made himself roll to his back, right hand clenched painfully around his gun. For a moment, he thought they'd gotten lucky, that Dean had hit the creature just right. Then it twitched, a growl seeping out between its teeth and Sam groaned.

"Dammit." Sam scooted awkwardly back, raising his shaking arm as the Pookha's head rose up to look at him. "Not good." The creature pushed up on its powerful legs, drool dripping from between its powerful jaws. Sam readied to fire and gasped as it swiftly turned away from him instead.

Dean skidded to a stop as the Pookha rounded on him and had no time to react as its heavy arm swung wide and collided with his chest. He briefly felt the impact and the sensation of flying through the air and then knew nothing as his head collided with something disturbingly hard.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as his brother was tossed like a rag doll into a tree. He watched as the Pookha's body rippled, bear like legs elongating as its shape changed in moments to that of the dark horse. Chains jangled along its back as it strode to Dean. Sam got his elbows underneath him, gasping at the pain in his right shoulder as the Pookha came to a stop standing over Dean and Sam scrambled to his feet. The black horse reared back, readying to crash its sharp hooves into Dean's skull. It screamed in frustration as Sam slammed his body into the Pookha's flank and knocked it off balance. The lethal hooves crashed to the earth inches from Dean's head.

Sam rolled away from the angry creature and scooped Dean's gun from the ground. He spun and fired into the barrel chest. The Pookha screamed again and began to transform, its head lengthening, thickening and becoming that of a bear once more as Sam watched. He fired again, this time directly between its eyes and gasped a breath in relief as it fell to the ground twitching and, for the moment, helpless.

"Dean." Sam crawled to his brother on one arm, his right hanging useless at his side. "Dean? You gotta wake up." He slapped at Dean's face gently and smiled when hazy green eyes blinked up at him.

"S'mmy?" Dean slurred and groaned, rolling slowly to his side. He blinked fiercely to make his eyes focus and reared back at the sight of the Pookha beside them. It laid twitching, the head and chest of a bear while its back end was still trapped in the form of a horse. Blood gushed from several bullet holes in its furry hide. "Whoa freaky!" He bumped back into Sam and then dropped his head, wiping a hand through the blood on the side of his face.

"You up to finishing it?" Sam asked

The horse legs in back began to kick while the bear paws in front scratched into the soft earth. Sam didn't wait to see if it was waking; he fired another round into its head and nodded at Dean to get moving.

"You alright?" Dean asked as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Sam nodded up at him and even managed a weak smile. "Good enough." He staggered to the Pookha's side and drew his machete. "Dibs on the shower." Dean muttered and bent to the grizzly task of hacking the head from the creature's malformed body. Blood sprayed as he sawed through bone and sinew. He pulled the wide blade back and took a strong swing, severing the spine and grinned as the head rolled free. He kicked it so it rolled over the side of the land bridge and dropped into the fog and water, sinking away. He wiped the blade off on the fur of the remaining body and put it back in its sheathe.

"Ok, Sammy. Time to go." Dean went to him, rubbing a hand over the sizeable lump on the back of his head and groaned. "Come on, kiddo." He bent down and frowned. His little brother's head had rolled back against the tree, eyes closed in a face clearly pale even beneath the blush of a fever he could now clearly see. "You need to wake up, Sam. I'm not carrying you outta here." Dean said ruefully and gave Sam's good shoulder a shake while pushing down his worry. "Sammy."

"It's…Sam." Sam moaned and cracked his eyes open. "Personal space, dude." He said with a smirk to his brother's concerned face bent so close to his own.

"Shut up." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders. "Geez you're a friggin furnace and it's already a hundred out here. Up you go, big foot."

"Ah…ah crap." Sam squinted his eyes shut against the pain of shifting his right shoulder. It was well and truly infected now for sure; one too many trips through a frog infested bayou he thought to himself as Dean dragged him along the causeway. The thought of making the return trip through the water made his head swim.

"Don't you go out on me, Sammy." Dean warned and gave him a gentle shake until he raised his head again. "Keep it together just a little longer." Sam nodded and let him lead while he did his best to ignore the fever now burning through him.

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Dean pulled up in front of their motel, cut the engine and dropped his head back with a sigh. He'd had to all but carry Sam out of the Bayou as the fever took hold. He eyed the building and the three flights he'd have to carry him up and groaned before looking across the seat. His little brother's long body was impossibly curled against the passenger door, right arm cradled against his chest and shivering. Dean studied Sam's sweating, flushed face for another minute and then started the car again.

"Think you need more patching up than I can do buddy." Dean murmured over the rumble of the engine and pulled back out to the street. The wound he could clean and stitch again but the infection had taken enough of a hold to concern him. "Hope your Doctor pal works nights."

It didn't take him long to find the little hospital that looked more like a glorified clinic to Dean. He parked in front of the building and hoped at this hour the mostly empty lot meant he wouldn't have to do a lot of explaining on his brother's condition. Sam mumbled incoherently as Dean pulled him from the car and half pulled, half carried him into the hospital. The front desk was unmanned and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Awesome." Dean hitched Sam's arm higher and pulled him down the corridor behind the desk. He peeked in the first exam room and, finding it empty, lugged Sam in. He rolled Sam onto the bed and patted his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere."

Dean stepped back out into the hall and went further in, sticking his head in each room. Most were empty, a couple occupied by sleeping patients. He heard a voice finally and followed to find an older, white haired man in the ubiquitous white coat in a cluttered office, feet up on the desk, arguing into the phone propped on his shoulder. Dean knocked loudly on the open door and smiled at the surprised face that jerked up to see him.

"Call ya back, Marge." The Doctor said quickly and hung up the phone. "Who the hell are you?"

Dean smirked. "Lemme guess, you're Doctor Erickson."

"I'm the guy who's gonna give you a reason to be in one of my beds you don't answer my question." Doctor Erickson gave him a feral smile and stood.

"Right." Dean held in the laugh; Sam's description of the man's personality had been spot on. "You saw my brother yesterday. Gave him something for an infection from uh…scratches?"

"The idiot fed." The Doctor nodded and he rolled his eyes. "You're the one who wasn't smart enough to duck during the twister."

Dean bristled at his tone. "I was a little busy at the time. Look Sam's here…"

"Well why didn't you say." Doctor Erickson grabbed a stethoscope from his desk and dropped it around his desk. "He lose another argument with a wild animal? Where is he?"

"Had to dump him in a room myself. You're night staff sucks." Dean grumbled and went back out in the hall, leading the Doctor back to the room he'd left his brother in. Sam had rolled to his left side, still unconscious and muttering in his sleep. "Sammy?" Dean went immediately to him and dropped a hand to his forehead.

"Pookha." Sam murmured. "Dean?""

"Right here, buddy." Dean looked up as Doctor Erickson frowned and took up Sam's wrist, checking his pulse.

"Guess he didn't listen to well when I told him to take it easy." The Doctor said and laid Sam's hand back. "Infection's gotten worse." He looked up to Dean and sighed. "I'm gonna give him an IV for a stronger antibiotic than I gave him. He needs that now and we'll get this fever down. He's gonna have to stay here a couple hours at least. I know your kind usually dodge hospitals."

Dean stared in surprise. "Our kind? You mean Federal agents?"

Doctor Erickson snorted a laugh while he pulled several ice packs out of a drawer. "Hunters, dumbass." He grinned at the surprise on Dean's face as he placed the packs around Sam's neck and shoulders. "Patched up my fair share of you lunatics over the years. You don't think you get to be my age in a backwater like this without learning a few things? Keep him quiet."

Dean watched him leave and chuckled. "I think I like this guy." He brushed Sam's sodden bangs off his forehead. Sam stilled under his touch and sighed, making Dean smirk. "You're such a girl."

"Help me get his shirt off." Doctor Erickson said as he came back in and quickly set up a clear IV bag above the bed. He and Dean managed to wrestle Sam's shirts off and Dean held him still while the Doctor got the IV into his arm. "Went back into the Bayou since I re-stitched this, hasn't he?"

Dean nodded. "Had no choice. He didn't tell me it was this bad." He said as he got a good look at the angry red and raw skin around the wounds. More stitches had torn after their fight in the swamp.

"Well, he won't like this. All these stitches have to come out." The Doctor set to work with a small pair of scissors. "Wounds need cleaning again. Never know what kinda crap that Pookha was carrying."

"Wait…you knew there was a Pookha killing people?" Dean stared, shocked as he held his brother still. The Doctor chuckled.

"Can't exactly tell the locals there's an evil creature munching on people." Doctor Erickson rolled his eyes. "Keep him still." He worked quickly to remove the rest of the stitches while Sam groaned and finally got his eyes open.

"What?" Sam said, looking up to see his brother and the Doctor leaning over him and then groaned again as the hot pain in his right shoulder radiated out through his entire body.

Doctor Erickson snorted at the bleary, hazel eyes turned up to him. "Thought you had more sense than to wrestle that thing twice. Not gonna last long as a Hunter you keep that up, kid."

Sam scowled and closed his eyes. "Was saving…his ass." He said and smirked when he felt Dean tug his hair.

"Shut up." Dean growled. "Before I dump you back in that damn swamp and hold still." Dean kept up the teasing banter to distract his little brother from the painful process of the Doctor cleaning the wounds, re-stitching them and sighed in relief when they were finally bandaged and Sam rested easy in the bed. Dean pulled a stool over and settled beside the bed as Doctor Erickson left and shook his head. "Good thing Dad's not here. He'd kick my ass for letting you get this hurt." He twitched the sheet up higher on Sam's chest and leaned back against the wall to steal a nap while the antibiotics did their job. He pulled out his cell phone first and shot off a quick text to their Dad. 'Pookha's toast. We're fine.'

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John Winchester sighed as he pulled up across from White Castle's little hospital and saw the Impala parked in front. He read the short message from Dean and wanted nothing more than to run inside and check on his boys but knew he couldn't. Not yet. Instead, he revved the engine and pulled away. He drove silently out to the Bayou where his sons had been earlier in the evening. Though he didn't think he would need them, he strapped on his machete and made sure his gun was loaded before striding quickly into the woods and toward the swamp.

The mist had begun to lift, swirling about his knees as he went through the silent Cypress trees in the darkness, his flashlight giving the only illumination as the Moon had yet to make an appearance through the clouds. The Crickets stilled their song as he reached the edge of the Bayou. He'd needed the insane Pookha out of the way so he could reach the other one he'd been sure was here as well. He swung the bag he'd taken from the truck off his shoulder and emptied it onto the moist ground; a pile of sweet, dark grain he'd borrowed from an area farmer and stepped back a ways to wait.

Several silent minutes went by and finally he heard something moving through the nearby water. A moment later a dark shape rose from the edge of the Bayou and came closer. It was a tall, dark horse; chains jingled lightly in its mane as it bent to sniff at the offering John had left it.

"I need to ask you a question." John said softly as the Pookha nibbled at the grain. He'd done his research carefully and knew Pookha's were rumored to be creatures of prophecy if you could find one in the mood to talk. The creature raised its head and stared at him. John stood perfectly still under its scrutiny. Its red eyes blinked and it nodded slowly.

"Ask." The voice breathed softly through the air and into John's mind.

"What hunts my family?" John asked then. He'd considered a hundred different things to ask, each answer as important as the next but had finally settled on the most important. He needed to know what was trying to kill them, what had taken his wife, if he had any hope of protecting his sons.

The Pookha stilled again and lowered its head. "Old as time and black as pitch, what hunts the Hunter rose from hell." The Pookha's voice firmed as John's eyes widened in shock. "A plan long laid and wove in tangles stretches far along your family line. Ward the youngest for if you cannot save him, you must kill him."

"What?" John startled and took a step closer. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Save him from what? Tell me!"

The Pookha's body shook once, hard and John froze in place, his hand quickly drawing the pistol from his back. The creature's tremor stopped and its head rose slowly to gaze at him.

"Careful, Johnny-boy." The Pookha's eyes bled from red to yellow, its muzzle drawing up on one side in a smirk before its dark body whirled and bounded back into the Cypress trees. John fired after it long after it had vanished until his gun dry-fired a few times and finally lowered his arms, heart pounding and eyes wide in shock. He stared out into the night and shivered as the meaning of the Pookha's words finally sank in.

"A Demon." John whispered. "Oh god, Mary. How the hell do I kill a Demon and save our boys?" He asked of the night. The only answer the Bayou gave him was the distant, faint sound of laughter before it trailed off into silence and left him alone.

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_The End._

_A/N: I always wondered how John first caught on to the fact it was a Demon stalking his family and so this last scene was born. :D_


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